A Seed Planted Read online

  A Seed Planted

  A Seed Planted

  Cat FitzGerald

  © 2019 Cat FitzGerald

  A Seed Planted

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Elm Hill, an imprint of Thomas Nelson. Elm Hill and Thomas Nelson are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.

  Elm Hill titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  All Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.Zondervan.com. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.®

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2019917724

  ISBN 978-1-400328871 (Paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-400328888 (eBook)

  Information about External Hyperlinks in this ebook

  Please note that footnotes in this ebook may contain hyperlinks to external websites as part of bibliographic citations. These hyperlinks have not been activated by the publisher, who cannot verify the accuracy of these links beyond the date of publication.

  For Claire, Reed,

  Sally, Elizabeth, Savannah,

  Graham, and Lily

  Precious Seeds

  And my Jesus

  “Listen then to what the parable of the sower means: When anyone hears the message about the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in their heart. This is the seed sown along the path. The seed falling on rocky ground refers to someone who hears the word and at once receives it with joy. But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away. The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful.”

  Matthew 13:18–22

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  March 1949

  The lawyer’s office was dark and cluttered. Even though the day was sunny, none of the sun’s yellow rays penetrated the dusty blinds. Every flat surface held a haphazard array of books and files. Two cheap vinyl chairs crowded together in front of the desk, uncomfortably occupied by two women trying not to look at each other. A middle-aged man in the corner glanced around nervously. One of the women was quite young, a baby in her lap. The other was pale, touches of gray showing in her stiff waves. The man, dark all over, eyes, hair, and skin, shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  Seated on the other side of the desk, John Lincoln, Esquire, studied the child. She was less than a year old, blissfully unaware of what was happening and how it affected her. Content for the moment, she sucked her thumb noisily, dark curls shimmering under the harsh fluorescent light, green eyes wide with curiosity. Her name was Cindy.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Ready, if you’ll sign here, please, full names and today‘s date.” He pushed the documents across his desk and offered a pen.

  The couple did as requested, eyeing each other to confirm what they were doing was the right thing. A good thing. For them.

  “And, Miss Roberts, if you will sign here, also full name and the date,” the lawyer repeated to the young woman who moved the child to her other knee and took the pen. Holding it above the signature line, she hesitated briefly, a single tear seeping from her eye. Glancing at Mr. Lincoln, she saw him nod imperceptibly and scribbled the required information. Nearly knocking over the chair in her haste to escape, Janet Roberts handed Cindy to the older woman and fled the room, not bothering to close the door. Startled, Cindy began to cry.

  Malcolm Ready reached into the bag left by the child’s mother, found a bottle of milk, and handed it to the baby.

  Martha bounced her knee up and down, causing the bottle to slip from the baby’s hands which set off another round of tears. Malcolm picked it up, giving his wife a look of annoyance.

  “Here you go, baby girl, here you go,” Martha tried again, keeping herself still this time. Cindy clutched the bottle to her mouth.

  “Well, that concludes just about everything...,” Mr. Lincoln’s voice trailed off as he gave Malcolm a questioning look.

  “Oh, right,” responded Malcolm as he reached into his jacket’s inner pocket and brought out an envelope.

  “Thank you, Mr. Lincoln. We really appreciate all you’ve done to help us.” Martha smiled at the lawyer as she gathered her purse and stood.

  “Yes, thank you,” echoed Malcolm, picking up the baby’s bag.

  Lincoln eyed the couple from behind wire-rimmed glasses that added to his Teddy Roosevelt appearance. He’d known the Readys for years, was close friends with Malcolm’s mother, Jean. She was a fine woman, honest as the day is long, hard-working, and kind. He could not say the same about her son, and it was only because of his friendship with Jean that he agreed to handle the adoption.

  “Y’all take good care of little Cindy now. I look forward to watching her grow up,” John said as he escorted them to the door.

  “Oh, she’s not Cindy anymore. Her name is Julia now,” admonished Martha.

  “That’s right. I forgot. Julia, it is.”

  “Yes, after my grandmother. Her middle name is May. Julia May Ready.” Martha‘s happiness was evident.

  Lincoln knew of the couple’s heartbreak after learning there would be no biological children. They’d seen dozens of doctors and undergone as many tests before acceptance settled in. Approaching forty, they’d all but given up when Malcolm’s sister heard about a young
woman looking to give up her baby.

  Although surprised to learn the child was nearly a year old, they took the plunge. Jean Ready called her lawyer friend, and he handled everything on their behalf. Not knowing why Janet Roberts was giving up her child, they assumed it was because she wasn’t married. They had asked no further questions.

  Malcolm opened the door for his wife, nodding once more to the lawyer as they left.

  John Lincoln sat at his desk, hands folded before him. He wasn‘t a religious man, but at that moment, he was praying this adoption would work out. He prayed for the care and safety of that sweet, innocent baby girl. He knew Martha would do her best, but he was more than a little concerned about Malcolm. He was known to drink and let his temper get out of control. Lincoln never heard that Malcolm hit Martha, so he told himself all would be fine. Hopefully, having a child would settle him down, make him more responsible. He dearly hoped so. At least, Jean would be close by.

  **************************************************

  Outside, at the bus stop, Janet Roberts sobbed. Handing Cindy over was much harder than she’d imagined. She knew it was the right thing, but it still hurt. She should have done it when Cindy was born, right in the hospital. Just signed the papers and let her go to a good family. Instead, she’d foolishly convinced herself she could do it, but with no help from her parents, she’d struggled to put food on the table, let alone anything else.

  She shook her head at the memories of her encounter with Cindy’s father. Thinking he would marry her when he knew she was pregnant, she’d been shocked to learn he was already married. She’d slapped him and cried, but there was nothing to be done about it. He was stationed at the army base, shipping out in three days. She didn’t even know his last name.

  She just wanted somebody to love her. Anybody.

  Cindy filled that need for a little while before Janet realized it was hopeless.

  Pulling an envelope from her purse, she counted the money again and sighed. With this, she could start over. The tears began anew, bitter as the pain in her heart.

  One thousand dollars. The cost of her child.

  The loud rumble of the Greyhound interrupted her thoughts. Shoving the envelope back in her purse, Janet picked up her ratty suitcase and inhaled the nasty diesel fumes as the bus ground to a halt. This one would eventually make it to Atlanta, but right now all she cared about was leaving Serendipity, Georgia, as far behind as possible.

  Chapter 1

  Present Day

  JuJu rocked slowly in the front porch swing. The evening was quiet, as evenings on the farm generally were. Not quiet, as in there was no sound at all, but rather quiet as in the crickets chirping at the edge of the tree line, the occasional sharp cry of a whip-poor-will, or the obnoxious belch of a nearby bullfrog. Farm quiet did not mean silence. JuJu found it comforting as always, although sounds no longer emanated from the barn or the stable as the livestock had been sold long ago. A few chickens were still around for eggs as well as entertainment for Rocky, her fifteen-year-old black Lab. Snoring softly, he slept by her side, twitching now and then in dreamy pursuit of some unknown prey. Dixie, the cat, was curled up next to her on the swing, purring contentedly. Neither of them had a care in the world beyond their next meal. They didn’t know what the future was bringing.

  JuJu didn’t either.

  Dixie was as black as Rocky, and when they played together, tearing around the yard, all you could see were whirling black shadows. No one ever told them they were mortal enemies. They often slept curled up together, one giant black lump on the floor. Marley once joked that they even shared fleas. JuJu smiled at the memory even though it still brought pain.

  You can’t know joy if you haven’t met pain.

  JuJu‘s grandmother had said that more times than she could count. It made her furious when she was younger, before she understood joy and pain were sisters. Before she learned from experience that beauty can, indeed, rise from ashes, and ground has to be torn up before it can produce a harvest.

  Lord, this life has been hard. But just like Job said, even if you kill me, I will trust You.

  JuJu gazed across the fields where once corn had grown tall. They were fallow now. Who knew if they would produce again? She hoped so, but that was no longer her concern.

  Memories, heartache, and joy, all wrapped together now, she could hardly keep straight what happened when. No matter. She could remember clearly the pain but chose to focus on the happy times, seeing the bad times as bookends that held the rest of it together. Today, she felt gratitude for the blessings aplenty to fill up the spaces between.

  Gratitude was the balm she regularly applied to keep the shadows away.

  Chapter 2

  1958

  “Martha, can’t you keep this kid’s stuff out of my way? I can’t even walk through my own house without tripping over her crap! Where is she anyway?”

  Martha Ready dropped the spoon in the stew, grabbed a dish towel, and scurried into the living room. JuJu always picked up her toys; she was well aware of her father’s unpredictable temper and careful not to give him extra fuel for his outbursts. Martha took a sharp breath and stopped at the door. A pile of checkers lay scattered on the rug and the coffee table. JuJu knew better. What could she have been thinking, and where was she?

  The faint sound of a toilet flushing near the back of the house answered the question. Martha heard the door open, footsteps echoing down the hall towards them, JuJu unaware of the mounting tension.

  JuJu stopped suddenly, fear shadowing her face as she caught sight of her father standing over the checkerboard. Her mother stood speechless at the entrance to the kitchen.

  “How many times have I told you to clean up your mess? You don’t leave toys on the floor! Ever!” With that, Malcolm Ready viciously kicked the game board, pieces flying around the room like freshly broken balls on a pool table.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. I went to the bathroom. I wasn’t gone but a minute.” One look in her father’s bloodshot eyes and JuJu knew the excuse was useless. Her small shoulders slumped.

  In response, her father violently swept the rest of the pieces from the table then turned on her mother, glaring and slurring his words.

  “I work my butt off to provide for you two, and all I ask is a little respect, food on the table, and a clean house. Is that too much to expect? Huh, is it?”

  “No, Malcolm, of course not. We’ll clean it up right away. You just relax in your chair. We’ll take care of it.” Martha didn’t move from her spot and kept her head down as she answered.

  “JuJu, get this cleaned up right now, then come help me finish dinner.”

  “JuJu! What a name! Why do you call her that? She knows how to say her name, don’t you, girl?” Malcolm turned to face her again. “Don’t you know how to say your name, little girl? Huh, little baby? Say your name. Say it.” Malcolm taunted her.

  “Julia,” JuJu whispered so softly she was barely heard.

  “That’s right. Julia. Ju-li-a.” Malcolm sneered and focused his drunken gaze on his wife. “When’s dinner? I’m hungry.”

  Martha jerked. “In about half an hour. I’ll hurry. Just relax a bit.” Turning, she fled into the kitchen, leaving her ten-year-old to clean up under Malcolm’s stern eye.

  JuJu dropped to her knees, scrambling for scattered checkers. The front door slammed as Malcolm left, and she released the breath she wasn’t even aware she’d been holding. She crawled around, searching for every checker. God forbid a stray piece turn up later.

  “JuJu, hurry up and come help me,” her mother called from the kitchen.

  “All right, Mama, I’m almost done.” She loved being called JuJu. It made her feel special.

  When she was a baby, she couldn’t pronounce Julia, so it came out JuJu. Her grandmother said it was cute. Even her dad at first. Lately, though, it was something ugly in his mouth. Everything became ugly in his mouth.

  She put the game away, carefully counting to be sure she
had all the pieces and shut the lid on the toy box. Making her way into the kitchen, she silently watched her mother at the stove, every hair in place, perfectly starched and pressed apron tied around her small waist. JuJu often wondered why her mother didn’t help when her father yelled at her. Standing there, JuJu recognized her mother’s fear for the first time. She wasn’t sorry for Mama, though. She was angry.

  Chapter 3

  Present Day

  Rocky lifted his old head and looked towards the road, his hearing pretty good despite his advanced years. JuJu looked, too, and a few seconds later, was able to make out a cloud of dust over the treetops at the far end of the drive, a quarter mile away.

  The massive oaks that lined the farm’s entrance kept vehicles hidden until they reached the edge of the front yard. Rocky stood up, snuffling as he focused his stare on the spot where the intruder would first appear. He growled softly.

  JuJu sighed. Dixie opened one eye, yawned widely, changed position and returned to her slumber. She could not be less interested.

  Rocky growled again, louder this time.

  “It’s okay, boy,” JuJu spoke firmly, and the big dog moved to the other side of the swing before dropping to the wide-planked floor. He had done his job.

  A slight breeze ruffled the changing leaves, bringing with it the smell of fall.

  The rev of a large engine broke through the evening’s calm and brought more memories, some she wished to forget.

  1960

  Malcolm owned a Dodge pickup with a big, diesel engine that scared the daylights out of the chickens and anything else within earshot. He loved revving it up loud to annoy his mother, Jean. She came out of the house yelling at him to turn that thing off before he gave all the livestock a heart attack. He just laughed and stomped the pedal again before shutting it down.

  Since JuJu and her parents lived across the road from Grandma Jean, there was no need for Malcolm to drive the truck over. The driveway was pretty long, but he did it purely to aggravate. On this particular day, Malcolm returned from an afternoon at the local pool hall to find his family missing. Assuming they were at his mother’s, he whipped the truck around and barreled across the highway. Parking near the back of the house, he stumbled out of the truck and into the backyard where he found his daughter playing with Betty, the old family dog, who growled at the sight of Malcolm.